Palace of Tears

by Anna King

  So it was in stunned disbelief that both Dot and Emily accompanied a determined Nellie to Hackney police station two days after her discharge from hospital, and there listened in delighted amazement as the normally placid woman, armed with a letter from the hospital doctor describing her injuries in detail, formally laid charges against her husband for committing grievous bodily harm to her person.

  Now, with only a week of her holiday left, Emily was beginning to worry about what would happen to her mother, once she herself was no longer around to provide moral support. She had seen to it that the lock on the front door was changed, and a heavy bolt fitted to the top of the door. But she would feel a lot happier if Lenny was back home, before she left to return to the Winters. Yet apart from an occasional note, hastily written in Lenny’s scrawled handwriting and dropped through the letterbox to assure them that he was well and would be home soon, neither of the two women had been quick enough to catch the errant young man on his brief visits, and Emily, as well as being worried, was also beginning to feel angry at his childish behaviour.

  Nellie, too, was starting to fret about her son. This was the longest he had ever been missing from home, and these last few days had seen her walking the streets hoping to run into her son.

  He had been seen in the East End markets, where he was well known, doing a few hours’ work here and there, but despite the messages that Nellie had left for him with the stall-holders, asking Lenny to come back home, the seventeen-year-old young man remained elusive.

  Now, on a bitterly cold October morning, Nellie was preparing to go out again.

  ‘Oh, Mum, why didn’t you wake me?’ Emily, wearing a long white calico nightgown, her wavy chestnut hair tumbling about her shoulders, walked into the parlour. Yawning loudly, she hurried over to the fire where the black lumps of coal were just beginning to catch light. ‘Bbrrr, it’s freezing in here,’ she said, her teeth chattering. Seeing her mother about to don her heavy coat, she protested, ‘Hang on a minute, Mum, where are you going? Lord, it’s not even seven o’clock yet.’

  ‘I’m popping down Well Street to get a bit of shopping,’ Nellie replied, her fingers doing up the large plastic buttons of her coat. ‘There’s a pot of tea made,’ she inclined her head towards the table and the tray set for one. ‘There’s enough bread for some toast if you want some. I shouldn’t be too long.’ Then before Emily could stop her, Nellie was gone. A blast of cold air from the opened door caused Emily to shiver violently.

  Hurrying back upstairs, she grabbed her cord dressing- gown from the bottom of the bed and, wrapping it round her shivering body, descended back down the stairs.

  An hour later she was peering out of the window, anxiously biting at her bottom lip. It didn’t take this long to buy a few groceries. Well Street was only five minutes’ walk from here, and half the stalls wouldn’t even be set up yet. ‘Oh, Mum… Mum, where are you?’ she murmured fretfully, her breath steaming up the window. Rubbing the glass clear with the back of her hand, she was about to turn away when the familiar figure of her mother came into view. Sighing with relief, Emily pulled open the door exclaiming, ‘Mum, where have you been? I was just starting to get really worried.’

  ‘Stop your fussing, Emily, I haven’t been that long. Look, take this shopping and put it away, will you, while I get a bit of warmth from the fire. It’s perishing out there.’ Holding her hands out over the now blazing coals, she called over her shoulder, ‘And put the kettle on, love, I’m dying for a cup of tea.’

  When they were both seated either side of the fire, with mugs of steaming tea clasped in their hands, Emily asked quietly, ‘Where did you go, Mum? And don’t tell me you just went down Well Street. You’ve been gone over an hour.’

  Taking a sip of the steaming liquid, Nellie looked over the rim of her mug and sighed.

  ‘Why ask what you already know? Anyway, I didn’t have anything better to do, and I can’t sleep properly lately, so…!’ Her slim shoulders rose and fell, her whole attitude one of utter dejection.

  Seeing her mother looking so forlorn, Emily was torn between a desire to comfort her and to give her a good shaking. And as for her brother! Lord, but she’d give Lenny a skinning when she got hold of him. Unlike her mother, Emily, although worried, was certain that Lenny could look after himself. She also had a good idea of the reason behind Lenny’s absence. She thought back to the afternoon of her return home, and the scene she had walked in on. She remembered, too, the frightened, almost shamefaced way Lenny had reacted before running off. An image of her brother’s stricken face flashed before her eyes, and immediately Emily was ashamed of her harsh condemnation of the immature youth. He couldn’t help it, poor devil. It must have been awful for him, seeing his mother’s bruised face, and knowing that there was nothing he could do to help her. No wonder he had run off like he had. Wherever he was now, he was probably trying to make up a good excuse, as well as working up the courage to return home.

  The rattle of the letterbox made both women lift their heads and look towards the door.

  Emily reached the doormat first, picking up the brown envelope and turning it over to see who it was addressed to.

  ‘Who’s it for, love?’ Nellie asked nervously. It was a special event to receive a letter. These days the postman was seen as a portent of doom. When he walked down the street, looking at the numbers on the rows of neat, terraced houses, women whose men were overseas peeped from behind net curtains, their hearts thumping, before heaving a sigh of relief when the uniformed man passed their door. But Nellie had no man away fighting, so who could have…! She started to rise from the chair as Emily, the brown envelope held in one hand, pulled open the door and looked in both directions up and down the street.

  ‘What is it, love?’ Nellie called out anxiously.

  Turning her head slightly, Emily held out the brown envelope to Nellie.

  ‘It’s another note from Lenny, though he doesn’t usually bother putting it in an envelope. There’s no stamp on it, so he can’t be too far away. Wait till I get my hands on him, the silly begger, dropping notes through the letterbox and running off, instead of coming in and putting your mind to rest. He must know you’ve been worried sick about him.’ Taking her coat down from the peg on the back of the door, Emily didn’t stop to put it on properly, but pulled it tight around her shoulders. ‘I’ll see if I can find him,’ she called out. ‘He can’t have got that far.’

  Before she pulled the door to, she saw her mother take out a small scrap of paper from the envelope. Once outside the house, she again looked up and down the street, not knowing which way to go. Seeing Mrs Riley coming out of her house, she called out, ‘Morning, Mrs Riley. Have you seen Lenny, by any chance?’

  Mavis Riley, an energetic sixty-year-old widow, shook her head, her eyes curious.

  ‘Sorry, Emily, I haven’t seen the lad for well over a week now. There’s nothing wrong, is there, love? I’m not being nosy, but I couldn’t help noticing he hasn’t been at home, and he’s not normally away for this long.’

  Hugging the coat tighter about her body, Emily smiled. ‘I know you’re not being nosy, Mrs Riley, and no, there’s nothing wrong – that is, I hope not.’ Turning to go back indoors, she added, ‘If you do see him, could you tell him I’ve been looking for him.’

  ‘Aye, Emily, I’ll do that. And tell your mum if there’s anything I can do, just knock on me door, it’s always open.’

  Thanking the woman, Emily took one last look up and down the street before hurrying back indoors.

  ‘There’s no sign of him, Mum, and it’s too cold to go running round the streets after him.’ Dropping the coat over the back of the chair, she walked over to where Nellie was sitting in the armchair by the fire. ‘What does he have to say for himself this time?’ Emily asked, her eyes going to the note held in Nellie’s hand.

  Nellie looked up, smiling weakly. ‘He says he’s sorry if I’ve been worried, and he’ll be home before you have to go back to work. In the meantime
he’s stopping at a friend’s house, and… Oh! here, have a look for yourself.’

  Taking the piece of paper, Emily scanned the scribbled handwriting. The note was in the same vein as the previous ones, short and to the point. Yet, there was something that didn’t feel right…

  Careful to keep her voice light she said, ‘I didn’t know he had any close friends, well, close enough to put him up for any length of time.’

  ‘Oh, he has plenty of friends from the market, but as you say, I can’t see any of them letting him stay longer than a day or two. He’s probably been going from one house to another, stopping a night here and there…’

  She stopped for a moment, her lips curving into a sad smile. ‘He always sees staying with friends as a kind of adventure. Not that he would have stayed away this long, if you hadn’t been here to keep me company. And, like he says…’ she nodded towards the note in Emily’s hand, ‘he’ll be back home before you have to leave.’

  Leaning forward in the chair, Nellie smiled up at her daughter. ‘You’ve only a week left of your holiday, and we’ve hardly spent any real time together. I was so looking forward to your stay, yet I’ve hardly had the chance to talk to you, what with one thing and another. So why don’t you sit down, forget about your brother for now, and we’ll make good use of the time we have left.’

  Nellie waited until Emily was sitting opposite her in the sagging armchair before resuming their conversation. Keeping her tone light she said, ‘Dot told me Captain Winter came looking for you. She remarked on what a handsome man he is. Tell me, has the poor man been seeing anyone, I mean, in the way of female companionship? After all, it’s been a while since his wife died, poor soul, and he’s not a young man any more.’

  Emily’s lips twitched in amusement at her mother’s blatant attempt to try and elicit information from her concerning her employer’s nephew. Folding her hands in her lap she leant forward, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

  ‘You’re about as subtle as a lorryload of bricks, Mum. And no, I don’t know if Captain Winter has a lady friend. He doesn’t confide in me about personal matters. I’m only the hired help, after all. As for him looking for me, well… There was no ulterior motive in his coming here. He merely dropped the house keys off before rejoining his regiment – unless of course he planned to whisk me off to some posh restaurant and propose to me over a glass of champagne.’

  Nellie flapped her hands indignantly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m sure. I was only stating what a nice man he was. Besides, what if I was dropping hints about his feelings towards you? All mothers want the best for their children, it’s only natural.’ Two bright spots of colour stained her cheeks as she defended herself against Emily’s sardonic attack. Pulling herself further up in the armchair she added quietly, ‘I want the best for you, Emily, and that means you having all the things I didn’t, including a husband who will love and protect you. And if that man happens to come from a wealthy family, then so much the better.’

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ Emily breathed lovingly. Leaning over, she caught hold of her mother’s hands. ‘I know you only want the best for me, but if you’re setting your heart on Captain Winter as a son-in-law, then you’re going to be sadly disappointed. Like I said before, I’m only the hired help. Besides, I don’t think of him in that way, nor does he of me, I’m sure. Anyway…’ she gently shook the small hands chidingly, ‘he’s a lovely man, but he’s also old enough to be my father.’ As the hands jerked in hers, Emily’s eyes clouded over. ‘Speaking of which…’

  Before Emily could finish her sentence, Nellie pulled her hands away abruptly. The last person she wanted to talk about was Alfie. Over the past few days Emily had constantly asked her mother why she had put up with him all these years. How could Nellie put into words the shame and guilt she felt, as if somehow it was her fault that things were the way they were between her and Alfie. No, she didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t even want to think about it. She’d done what she should have done years ago, and now it was up to the police to punish her husband. And pray God they would, and soon; for she wouldn’t rest easy until she knew that Alfie was safely locked up, out of harm’s way. Briskly now, she deftly changed the subject.

  ‘You still haven’t shown me the things Miss Rose gave you before she left on her holiday.’

  Emily looked lovingly into the tired, almost haggard face, her heart leaping once again with pity at the bruising, which was fading but still clearly visible around the soft, blue eyes. The deep cut in Nellie’s upper lip had almost healed, but how the rest of her mother’s injuries were faring Emily didn’t know, for Nellie was careful to keep her body covered at all times.

  Emily’s gaze took in the thin brown hair caught up into a scraggly bun fastened at the back of her neck, before travelling downwards to the dowdy, shapeless brown blouse and black hobble skirt above the scuffed boots, and a germ of an idea came into her mind.

  Springing to her feet she said eagerly, ‘I’ll go and fetch them.’ Within minutes she was back, holding the bulky parcel under her arm. Dropping to her knees, she deftly untied the string around the brown paper and opened the parcel outwards. Her delighted eyes looked down at the small pile of clothes.

  ‘Ooh, Emily,’ Nellie breathed in admiration at the collection of brightly coloured garments.

  Leaning back on her heels, Emily began sorting through the dresses, blouses and skirts, her mind silently thanking Miss Rose for her kindness, while at the same time apologising for her previous uncharitable thoughts regarding the gift. Deftly sifting through the clothes, she picked up a dark red dress and held it up to the fire, her keen eyes looking for any faults in the soft, woolly material. Finding none she said briskly, ‘Stand up, Mum. I want to see if this fits you.’

  Nellie’s eyes stretched wide at the sudden request.

  Seeing her mother’s bewilderment, Emily laughed, ‘Come on, Mum, it’s not going to bite you – at least I hope not. Lord knows how long it’s been in the attic, because I’ve never seen Miss Rose wear it.’

  Nellie rose obediently and let Emily hold the dress up against her thin body. It was a plain dress, the only adornment being a row of small, pearl buttons down the bodice, and the leg-of-mutton sleeves were years out of date, but to Nellie it was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.

  ‘It could do with shortening, and those sleeves will have to be altered, but that’s no problem. Try it on properly, Mum, while I fetch the sewing basket.’

  In a daze Nellie undressed, then, as if suddenly remembering, quickly slipped the woollen dress over her head and wriggled her arms into the long sleeves, letting the soft fabric fall over her slim hips to the floor, but not before Emily had caught sight of several deep weals across her mother’s bare back.

  Her lips tightened in anger. Then, swallowing hard, Emily carefully placed several sewing pins between her teeth, knelt down and deftly tacked the trailing material into an even hemline. When she had finished she carefully lifted the dress over Nellie’s head and, settling herself into the armchair, began sewing up the hem with small, experienced stitches before unpicking the sleeves. As she watched Emily’s fingers expertly altering the beautiful dress, Nellie’s heart began to beat with pleasurable excitement.

  It was now late afternoon. Emily washed and curled Nellie’s hair with heated tongs, before allowing her mother to try on the finished article, after which the two women went upstairs. Nellie went quickly to the scarred wardrobe and took out her best pair, her only pair, of shoes. Pulling the ugly boots off, she slipped her feet into the black patent shoes, took a deep breath and looked at her image in the full-length mirror on the wall.

  She hardly recognised herself in her new finery. And though her face still bore testament to her recent ordeal, it didn’t look so bad now, not with her hair waved and falling around her cheeks and forehead. Her heart fluttering wildly, she ran her hands down the sides of her body, turning this way and that in order to get a better look.

  S
itting on the double bed, Emily watched her mother’s joy and felt a lump come to her throat. Why, oh why, hadn’t she done something like this before, she asked herself? But she had, many times, though in the past her mother had always refused any of the garments that Emily had offered her. And the reason wasn’t hard to figure out. The last thing her mother would have wanted was to make herself attractive while her husband was around. At the thought, Emily bowed her head, her heart full to bursting at the awful existence her mother had endured for years. Then her head snapped back up. That was all in the past now. With her father on the rim, her mother could start a new life. Closing her eyes, Emily offered up a silent prayer. ‘Please, God, wherever he is, keep him there, or let the police catch him and put him away. Don’t let him come back into Mum’s life. She’s had enough, and she deserves to be left in peace.’

  But the prayer gave her no comfort. Life was never that simple. Yet it was times like this – seeing someone that you loved happy, knowing that it was you who had made them so – that made it all seem worth while somehow. Now, if only Lenny would show his face, her mother’s happiness would be complete. Emily could only hope that happiness wouldn’t be short-lived.

  Chapter Eleven

  Later that evening, Lenny, his face flushed from running, swung open the heavy doors of the Red Lion pub in Stoke Newington. Uncertain of himself, he pushed his way awkwardly through the bevy of men, his eyes darting anxiously from left to right as if in search of someone. Then his face broke into a smile of relief. More confident now, he made his way towards a table at the back of the pub.

  ‘Hello, Dad. I did it, I did what yer told me to.’

  Alfie Ford looked up from his pint of beer at the grinning young man.

  ‘Yeah, all right, don’t go telling the whole pub our business,’ he snapped, his eyes furtively darting around the packed pub.